Knights of de Ware 02 - My Warrior Read Free

laird hadn’t lost his wits. The twinge in her stomach told her otherwise. “Father?”
    The laird wouldn’t meet her eyes.
    “Father,” she bit out, trying to reason calmly with him, “you’re tired. Once you’ve slept on it, had a chance—“
    “Cambria,” he chided.
    Her temper snapped faster than a kindling twig. “But Balliol is not even Scots!”
    “He was born in Scotland.”
    She spat on the ground. “A pig born in a mews does not make it a dove.”
    “Cambria,” he warned.
    “Edward thinks to placate the Scots by putting that—“
    “Cam.”
    “That fawning runt of a—“
    “Cambria!”
    “What!”
    “Listen to me,” he said with an uncharacteristic patience that worried her even more. “Accepting Balliol as king is our only hope to hold onto what lands we have. Now I’ve agreed to swear this oath, but only as long as the English guarantee that the Gavin property will remain in our name…mine and yours,” he added, poking her in the chest with a blunt finger. “You know what will happen to those who oppose the English…and lose.”
    “The Gavins will win!”
    “The Gavins couldn’t fight them even if we wished it,” Laird Angus muttered. “Our forces have been irreparably diminished because of the deserters.”
    “They didn’t de-…desert us,” she retorted, stumbling over the very words she’d used herself when she found Robbie had gone. “They fight for Scotland now! You mean to desert us!”
    “Don’t you understand?” The laird reddened, tensing his hands as if he fought the urge to throttle her. “If we fight the English, we’ll lose…everything—our land, our people, our way of life.”
    She shook her head. The Gavins were invincible. Malcolm the Steward had said so countless times. “We won’t lose, Father,” she insisted, placing her palm square on his thick chest. “The Scots army will come to our aid.”
    “Bah!” he scoffed, shaking off her hand. “They couldn’t agree on the proper way to put out a kitchen fire.”
    Cambria’s ire rose at this insult. “It’s because they have no support from the likes of us. That’s the only reason they seem…”
    “Inept?” her father supplied with caustic humor.
    She exhaled sharply in frustration. “Father, you’re asking me to put away my sword in the midst of battle.”
    “Cam, lass,” Laird Angus reasoned, “ you should know the price of recklessness and poor timing. Haven’t you learned that lesson countless times from my own blade?”
    His hand on her shoulder suddenly felt unbearably heavy.
    “One way or another,” he continued, “England will conquer Scotland and crown whomever they wish. It’s my intent to keep as much as possible of the Gavin clan and property intact. Now is not the time for battle. The enemy’s sword is already at our throat, and the storm is upon us. Now is the time to gather what we’ll need to weather it.” He squeezed her shoulder, and then released her. “I’ve agreed to meet with one of King Edward’s knights, Lord Holden de Ware. He’s said to be a just man, one who can be trusted.”
    “Trusted?” She wheeled away so he wouldn’t see the despair in her eyes. “ No Englishman can be trusted,” she whispered. “Father, we’re Scots. How can you do this?”
    “It’s already done, daughter,” he answered harshly, setting out for home. “Lord Holden’s men will be here tomorrow. I expect your full cooperation in making our English guests feel welcome.”
    English guests? The twinge in her stomach blossomed into a full-blown ache as she followed her father in stunned silence over moss-covered stones, through leaves that might be the last to fall on Scots soil, and thought about the approaching invaders. If the English were indeed already making their way north, then it was too late. There was no choice to be made.
    How had they come to this pass? In the space of a morning, her entire world had been turned upside down. Life would never be the same